Basier De Rose
by Chavalah-Maresca
Summary: A beautiful songfic about the friendship between Cosette and Grantaire, set to Seal's "Kiss From a Rose". Read and Review, sil vous plait


_ There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea  
You, became the light on the dark side of me  
Love remains, a drug that's the high and not the pill  
But did you know that when it snows  
My eyes become large  
And the light that you shine can't be seen?_

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It is a renowned fact that children are often times drawn to the very thing that their parents have warned them about their entire life. This does not apply to young people who intentionally wish to anger their parents. Oh no! It is instead just a simple law of human nature.  
Take Cosette, for example. She loved Jean Valjean with all her heart. How could she not when she owed her very life to him. Had it not been for Valjean, then she more than likely would have perished by the age of ten from illness, injury, or subconscious suicide. However, with much thanks to Valjean, instead of befalling such a fate, by the time she had turned ten, she was safely away in a convent, which she remained in until the age of sixteen, as she did not wish to become a nun.  
Yes, Cosette was sheltered by her father, as he thought that was what was best for her, and besides, he had promised her dying mother some ten years before that he would watch over her and keep her free from harm. Still, even living the lavish life of a Bourgeoisie girl, she could not escape from the fact that the first thing she ever knew was darkness and fear. Therefore, the girl had the heart of a gypsy and the fierceness of a piretess. She yearned to taste every inch of life, but yet, she was not allowed past the gates of her back yard.  
However, that all changed for Cosette when she fell in love with Marius Pontmercy. Marius had decided, one day, to bring Cosette along to the Café Musain, so that he could show his love off to his friends. His friends who were students as well as revolutionaries. If found out that she was consorting with them, that alone would have been enough of a reason for Valjean to send Cosette back to the convent. But if he had known that of all the students, Cosette became the closest to Grantaire, then hw probably would have locked her away from society forever.  
In short, Grantaire was everything that Cosette had been warned about. He was a drunk, a womanizer, and not that pleasant to look upon. No, he was not hideous, but he was certainly no Enjolras. That is why it took Grantaire by surprise that a lovely young woman such as Cosette, would even do as much as look upon him without sneering. She, after all, was beautiful and angelic. So, of course, he offered her a drink which, much to his surprise, she took from the bottle.  
"A flower like yourself should not be drinking brandy from the bottle," he scoffed.  
To which Cosette replied, "A flower? Hardly!"  
"Oh, you take offense to being called a flower? Most women would be honoured to have their beauty compared to that of!"  
"Granty," she smirked, (she always called him "Granty"), "I am glad you think I am so beautiful, but a flower also dies very easily, and wilts when picked."  
That was how they spoke to each other; he would ramble drunken words of reality, and she, sober of idealism mixed with wisdom._ Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey  
Ooh, the more I get of you, the stranger it feels yeah  
Now that your rose is in bloom  
A light hits the gloom on the grey_

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Cosette listened to him. That was what set her apart from almost everyone else who knew him. Grantaire knew that most everyone viewed him as nothing but a drunken fool, including Enjolras, who he admired so much. He admired Enjolras because, like Cosette, Enjolras was everything he was not. He was a student of history, therefore, he saw that anarchy could never have pleasant consequences. He warned them about it from his place in the back of the café, but no one listened, no one except Cosette.  
"It is rather ironic," she said on more than one occasion, "You are the one who is always intoxicated, yet you are the one who makes the most sense."  
He would simply laugh at that, and then mutter something about how she was foolish for being in love. That seemed to be his favourite subject: ripping on the ideas of anything that had to do with love, freedom, and revolution. He was a cynic, and that was all there was to it. Cosette did not try to refute him by telling him what he said was wrong, but instead offered another view point. They did not argue, but debated, often times with sarcastic remarks. She cared, and he did not understand why.  
"Mademoiselle", he would ask, "Why do you waste your time hanging around with a bunch of suicidal drunks at a café, anyway?"  
"Because, if there is one thing I actually remember from the Bible, it is that Jesus looked upon the drunks, prostitutes, and lepers as equals..."  
"Are you saying that I am equal to a leper?"  
"Oh no! Just that I do not care of what people may see as your vice, for we all have our own follies."_ There is so much a man can tell you  
So much he can say  
You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain  
Baby, To me, you're like a growing  
Addiction that I can't deny  
Won't you tell me, is that healthy, baby?  
But did you know that when it snows  
My eyes become large  
And the light that you shine can't be seen?_

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His was that he was a realist drunk, and hers was that she did not give up hope on him. She loved him as much as she could, and still remain faithful to Marius. During the day she would debate with him, but at night, she would weep for his inability to see the lighter side of anything. She expressed a certain amount of tenderness, that no woman ever had towards him. At first he assumed she was simply doing it our of pity, but then he started to realize that perhaps the lovely young girl who belonged to Marius did indeed, care for him. Still, he drank. He drank so that he could not think about her beyond what was real.  
As the weeks went on, he became harsher towards anyone who would mention anything about her kindness towards him. He could not see why anyone would have any concern for himself, who he considered to be an ugly drunk. On one event, Jehan even mentioned Cosette's apparent concern to him, and he simply retorted that it was nothing more than a childish fascination with something she knew would anger her father. After all, why else would she care?_ Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey  
Ooh, the more I get of you, the stranger it feels yeah  
Now that your rose is in bloom  
A light hits the gloom on the grey_

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Why would anyone care what became of him anyway? He had determined he had nothing better to do than to follow his friends to the barricades, despite the fact he cared not for the cause. Cosette kept saying:  
"Grantaire, you say that they are going to die, and yet you follow them all the same. They are at least dying for something they believe in. Why should you die too, it is not your cause?"  
But he saw nothing else but the fact that no matter what was done, he was bound to die anyway. Cosette wished to give-up on him, but she could not. At the bottom of her heart, she thought for sure that if she just showed him love, then he would be forever changed. Every girl wishes that of a man. Yet he was not even her love, and still she cared. She would hear the gun shots at night, fearing not only for her Marius, but also for the man who she thought should not have been there, as he was fighting for nothing.  
She spoke to him only once during the barricades, and that was again, to urge him to go home.  
"If I live, I live. If I die, I die. No one would care either way."  
"I would."  
"Silly Mademoiselle and your fascination in the very man that would upset your father. Imagine how your father would react to you consorting with an - -"  
"Just be silent! I am sick of your banter that you know I do not see as true!"  
"Consorting with an ugly drunk who - -"  
But again he was cut off by her, although this time, it was not by the same old remark, but by a tender kiss upon his brandy-stained lips. After that, she said just nothing, and left.  
He would have followed her. If he had, then maybe he would have not died that night. But instead, he just continued nursing his bottle._ I've been kissed by a rose on the grey  
And if I should fall, will it all go away? _


End file.
